twiggy gloam

18Nov09

So it’s not even 3:30 yet and the sun is just two fingers over the horizon…looking uphill into the woods, anyway. The tree-tops look pretty in that last bit of light, but all else is murked. There’s frost in the leaves, Oates has a tail full of burrs and it’s awfully November. I’ll stink of woodsmoke and have a red nose until May. I’d actually like some goddamned snow.